"Sweetheart — what happened? Who dared bully my little sweetheart? Tell me — I'll go take care of them for you." Watching the person who had buried their face in his knee, Jiang Xiuqing — who already knew everything that had happened — suppressed his smile and kept his fingers moving in slow, steady strokes through Ling Yun's hair.
Ling Yun's hair was very fine and soft. Pleasing to touch.
One touch, then another, and Jiang Xiuqing found his thoughts starting to drift. The person he liked was right there in reach — and he couldn't do anything about it. It was genuinely going to be the death of him.
"Xiuqing-gege — here, and here, and here — press them all." Ling Yun, who was supposed to be reporting grievances, was already far gone into the comfortable sensation of having Jiang Xiuqing's cool, long fingers moving through his hair and pressing his scalp at just the right pressure. He forgot the complaint entirely — and simply grabbed Jiang Xiuqing's hand and repositioned it on several spots across his own head.
Using Jiang Xiuqing as a personal masseuse.
In all the world, only Ling Yun would dare be this casual in Jiang Xiuqing's presence. The hand that right now moved with such gentleness — was the same hand that had stained itself with blood when it needed to. Thinking of that, Fan Zhengqing — who had been successfully reducing his presence in the corner — quietly packed up his papers and suppressed a shiver.
The Fourth Master's devotion to Young Lord Ling — ten years and going. Small wonder a family gathering was being called.
"Fourth Master." Having finished clearing the desk, Fan Zhengqing looked at Jiang Xiuqing.
"Zhengqing — you've worked hard. Head home early tonight — spend time with the family. Come in late tomorrow." With Ling Yun back, Jiang Xiuqing had no intention of working further. He granted Fan Zhengqing leave of his own accord.
"Bye, Fan-gege."
From his position face-down across Jiang Xiuqing's knee, Ling Yun also waved goodbye.
"Fourth Master. Young Lord Ling. See you tomorrow." Fan Zhengqing kept his eyes carefully averted, bowed, and backed out of the study. The moment the door closed, he encountered the head butler coming down the corridor with something in hand. He saw the cup. "Young Lord Ling's milk?"
"Young Lord Ling's milk."
The butler said it with the face of a man completely at peace with the world.
"Steward Xian — the timing is excellent right now." Fan Zhengqing gave the butler the answer he was there for.
"Shall I have someone take you home?" The butler reciprocated.
"Steward Xian — no need, I drove here. Going now — bye. See you tomorrow." After a few polite exchanges, Fan Zhengqing made his escape. Serving as special assistant was no easy thing — the high salary was offset by having no reliable schedule. With the rare gift of Jiang Xiuqing letting him off early, he was getting home to his family.
"Come to breakfast tomorrow."
The butler respected Fan Zhengqing's choice.
"Mm, mm. Steward Xian — go in quickly — if you're any later…" Fan Zhengqing pointed at the study door and bolted.
The knock came just as Ling Yun was drifting into a state of near-sleep from the head massage. The complaint? Entirely forgotten. He had gone limp. He wasn't even bothered anymore — he hadn't actually come out the worse for any of it tonight, so the urge to complain had never been that strong. It was really the feeling of being wronged he'd wanted to process.
"Steward Xian." The moment the knock sounded, Ling Yun clocked the cup in the butler's hands as the door opened, and every trace of drowsiness evaporated. He waved both hands immediately: "Xiuqing-gege — I'm not drinking the milk. I'm eighteen already — I don't need to grow any taller. No more milk."
For years as a child, Jiang Xiuqing had gotten him to drink milk under the pretext of growing tall. After over a decade of it, he was thoroughly done.
The butler gave Ling Yun a helpless look and shifted his gaze to Jiang Xiuqing.
"Steward Xian — just leave it here." Jiang Xiuqing pointed to the side table without requiring Ling Yun to drink immediately.
The butler set the milk down and left with a sympathetic look at Ling Yun.
"Xiuqing-gege — I am never drinking that again. Look how tall I already am." To prove he had no need for additional height, Ling Yun stood up — and pulled Jiang Xiuqing to his feet as well.
The two of them side by side. Jiang Xiuqing was just over half a head taller.
"Xiuqing-gege — look. I'm already 183 centimeters. If I drink more milk and end up taller than you — then you won't be able to hold me anymore." As he said this, Ling Yun even measured out the difference with one hand between their heights.
You're 183 centimeters. You think being carried is normal?
Jiang Xiuqing dropped his gaze to the person emphatically demonstrating the height comparison, his own smile deepening invisibly. "So — is sweetheart refusing milk in order to not grow taller than me?"
Ling Yun nodded with enormous enthusiasm.
"And if I grew taller still?" As he said this, Jiang Xiuqing picked up the milk cup and took a sip.
No chalky aftertaste. The butler had prepared it well. Actually quite good.
Looking at the ring of milk foam now sitting on Jiang Xiuqing's upper lip, Ling Yun went blank with surprise — and his heart began to pound with increasing intensity. He had… a sudden, very strong desire to lick that milk ring clean.
"Ling Yun?"
Of course Jiang Xiuqing had caught Ling Yun's expression. The moment he read it clearly, his own eyes darkened and went very still, something gathering behind them like a storm building.
That look made Ling Yun's heart falter.
"Xi… Xiuqing-gege — adults who are fully grown can't put on height by drinking milk. This is basic knowledge." He did have that much. But Jiang Xiuqing's eyes were too deep, and the depth was frightening. Saying the words, his own gaze slipped away from Jiang Xiuqing's mouth — and landed on the earlobe instead.
Xiuqing-gege had very satisfying earlobes. He wanted to squeeze them.
Noticing Ling Yun's distraction, Jiang Xiuqing was not about to let him escape.
He had waited so long. He was not going to let this moment pass. "Ling Yun — milk isn't only for growing taller. It has other uses. Would you like to find out?" He lifted the milk cup and took another sip, then cupped both hands around Ling Yun's face.
There was no longer any hiding, no escape into other things.
Held like this, Ling Yun had to look directly into Jiang Xiuqing's eyes. Looking — his whole consciousness dissolved into that whirlpool: want, indulgence, permission, restraint, suppression, and countless things he couldn't name, all of it churning, every churn resonating with something in his own body.
As if under a spell, Ling Yun's gaze drifted downward — and came to rest on Jiang Xiuqing's lips.
Beautiful.
Like a snow lotus blooming at a great height, waiting to be touched.
The faint, cold scent of high mountain springs rose again — this time mixed with the warm, sweet fragrance from Jiang Xiuqing's mouth. The cold scent and the sweet scent merged into something that invited ruin.
"Ling Yun."
Jiang Xiuqing's voice was very low. Very rough. He looked at Ling Yun with deep, dark eyes — holding something back, or waiting for something to arrive.
"Xiu… Xiuqing-gege."
Listening to the voice. Looking at the lips. Ling Yun felt as if his body no longer belonged to him. He tilted his head. He leaned forward. The distance between his lips and Jiang Xiuqing's was collapsing — close enough to feel each other's breath.
Jiang Xiuqing's heart surged.
But not yet.
"Ling Yun."
A breath — carrying that cool, quiet fragrance — warm, burning warm — exhaled from Jiang Xiuqing's mouth. It hit Ling Yun like an open flame against all remaining reason. Against every guard —
He let himself go.
Moved by something beyond his own intention. His tongue extended. Reached.
Sweet.
The moment tongue met lip, both bodies gave a shudder.
And the dazed person became suddenly, completely lucid.
Looking at the storm in Jiang Xiuqing's eyes — at the expression on his face that was somewhere between amused and knowing — Ling Yun's entire consciousness shook. He — he had actually licked Xiuqing-gege. Just thinking about having licked Xiuqing-gege's lips like some kind of criminal made his face go uncontrollably hot. What was he going to do? How was he going to explain this?
Jiang Xiuqing felt the panic radiating off Ling Yun immediately. Watching the evasive expression on his little sweetheart, he reminded himself — don't rush, don't rush, take it slowly. Only then did he speak: "What's wrong, sweetheart — did you think my milk foam looked bad?"
Milk foam.
Right. The foam.
Looking at the ring of foam still sitting on Jiang Xiuqing's lips, Ling Yun seized on this gift of an explanation. He arranged his expression into one of fastidious displeasure and said: "Xiuqing-gege — how old are you? You drink milk and end up with a foam mustache all over your face. Your powerful-CEO image has taken quite a hit."
Having said that — just as he was preparing to pull a tissue from somewhere and wipe Jiang Xiuqing's mouth with a hand that was going to betray him by shaking —
Jiang Xiuqing said: "You think my current appearance is subpar? Then — lick it clean."
"Lick… it clean?" Ling Yun stared at the perfectly composed Jiang Xiuqing.
His little heart also went completely out of control.
He didn't know if Jiang Xiuqing meant exactly what the words said, or if there was something else there. But looking at that expression — it could also be that Ling Yun was just overthinking.
"You've already done it once. Why be particular about a few more times? I remember when you were small you used to wipe your milk foam on my face all the time." Jiang Xiuqing pressed the temptation further.
What's past is past!
"No." Ling Yun refused outright, turned to run — only to find, predictably, that he hadn't moved one centimeter before Jiang Xiuqing's arm caught him. In Jiang Xiuqing's hold, Ling Yun didn't know it yet — but somehow, Jiang Xiuqing had a mouthful of milk in his mouth — and that arm pulling Ling Yun in was the arm that then transferred it, from Jiang Xiuqing's mouth, into Ling Yun's.
Rich, warm milk — carrying Jiang Xiuqing's own distinct scent — made Ling Yun's knees go soft on impact.
Half-sagged against Jiang Xiuqing, Ling Yun finished the milk he had sworn on his life he would never drink again.
"Xiuqing-gege — you're bullying me!"
The moment his lips were released, Ling Yun swiped hard at the residue with one hand. His face was crimson, his eyes huge and round and furious — the face of an outraged kitten. Extremely intimidating. Extremely cute.
"Sweetheart — how exactly did I bully you?"
Jiang Xiuqing ran the tip of his tongue over his lips, every line of him satisfied. This was not yet a real kiss — but it was more than enough for now. The changes in Ling Yun were clear enough. It wouldn't be long before everything fell into place exactly as it should.
Watching Jiang Xiuqing look genuinely unbothered, Ling Yun had run out of words.
"Sweetheart — tell me. How did I bully you?" Jiang Xiuqing continued to press, absolutely unwilling to let Ling Yun off.
Ling Yun: Remembering the thing he himself had just done to Jiang Xiuqing — his own guilty conscience landed on him like a hammer, and his eyes darted sideways, and then out of his mouth came: "I'm upset. From tonight, we sleep in separate rooms."
Every last trace of warmth disappeared from Jiang Xiuqing's face.
